TO when Chandler met Monica
by AEM77
Summary: A When Harry Met Sally/Friends Mash Up
1. 1st time we met, we hated each other

**Author's Note: So the characters aren't mine, the plot's not mine, and I'm guessing that with 5K other stories on the site, someone, somewhere has already had this idea, so that's not new either. Could this** ** _be_** **any less original? However, once I realized how alike Sally and Monica were and though less alike, how Harry and Chandler had the same sense of humor, I couldn't NOT write this fic.**

 **Takes place after college and assumes 1) C and M haven't met before, 2) They went to UC, and 3) Monica is still overweight. Enjoy!**

"I love you, my little Bing-a-ling," she coos, breaking their kiss momentarily to profess her feelings.

"I love you more," he vows before pulling her mouth to his once more.

The two continue to make out passionately on the street corner, unaware, or at the very least unperturbed, by the station wagon that has pulled up alongside them and waits idling.

Monica takes in the very public display of affection in distaste. She hopes this idiot playing tonsil hockey on the curb isn't her brother's roommate whom she's agreed to drive with to New York, but the dufflebag and carton of records lying at his feet suggest otherwise. When Ross had proposed she share the 18-hour drive with his friend Chandler, she'd jumped at the chance, hoping to break up the driving and the monotony with some company. But after watching the nauseating display taking place outside her car window, she's beginning to have second thoughts. As the already ridiculously long kiss shows no sign of ending, she not so subtly leans on the car horn.

The abrupt sound serves its purpose and the couple jumps apart in alarm.

"Sorry," Monica offers noncommittally.

"Monica?" Chandler replies half in question and half in greeting.

"Yep," she confirms with a tight smile. "Back's open." She indicates to the trunk that she's popped to allow for him to load his things.

He moves to place his possessions into the trunk, the whole time shadowed by his girlfriend who, rather histrionically in Monica's opinion, bemoans their impending separation.

"I'll call you as soon as I get to New York," he promises.

"Call me from the road," she pleads.

"I'll call before that," he assures her nonsensically, pulling her in for another kiss.

Never one to be known for her patience, Monica lays on her horn once more.

"Oops," she shrugs ignoring the glare Chandler's girlfriend is sending her.

After what seems like hours, they've finally managed to leave behind the girlfriend, whom Monica learns is called Janice, and finally begin their journey.

"Alright," Monica begins primly hoping to get this road trip back on track, "I've got this all planned out. The trip is 18 hours, so I figure we'll split it into 3-hour shifts. That should keep each of us at optimum alertness when behind the wheel. We'll break each 6 hours for meals and I've got snacks in that cooler behind you, for when we need a boost but it isn't time to stop. Sound alright?"

Chandler, who has been taking this all in with equal parts admiration and trepidation, merely nods before realizing she's forgotten a crucial detail in her scheduling. "What about the bathroom?"

"Pardon?" She asks distractedly, momentarily occupied by merging the station wagon onto Lake Shore Drive.

"You know, the bathroom," he trails off hoping she won't make him elaborate on what one does in the bathroom.

She looks at him in confusion for a moment before catching on, "We'll use the bathroom during our scheduled breaks." She tells him as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and he's a moron for asking.

"But what if we have to go _before_ a break?"

"We hold it," she tells him. Then taking in his raised eyebrows she adds, "You can't hold it for a few hours? What are you 9?"

"It's not that," Chandler admits. "I just could really use a cigarette and I don't think one every six hours is gonna cut it."

"Well, you're not smoking in my car," she tells him with finality. "So you'll just have to come up with something to distract yourself."

"Yeah, alright," Chandler agrees reluctantly. Already he can feel the tendrils of anxiety creeping up on him that seem only to be appeased by nicotine. He drums his fingers restlessly on the dashboard before catching Monica's disapproving glare. Placing his hands back in his lap and lacing his fingers, he searches desperately for some topic of conversation that can break up the awkward silence that's settled over the station wagon and that might distract him from his withdrawal symptoms.

"Well, we've got 18 hours to kill," he begins conversationally. "Why don't you tell me your life story?"

Monica laughs derisively at this. "My life story isn't even going to get us out of Chicago. Nothing's happened to me yet. _That's_ why I'm going to New York."

"So what's going to happen to you in New York?" Chandler asks barely concealing his amusement. Could this girl _be_ anymore cliché?

"I'm going to make it as a chef," she tells him with so much pluck he thinks she may actually be a cartoon character rather than flesh and blood.

"'Kay," he smirks.

"What?" She asks defensively. "You don't think I have what it takes to make it?"

"It's not that," Chandler replies. "You could be the greatest chef ever. I don't know. But 'making it' in New York," he tells her, fashioning quotations marks with his fingers, "isn't really about how talented you are. It's more about luck than anything else."

"And you think I'm going to be unlucky," she accuses.

"Well yeah, probably," he agrees. Then taking in her angry stare he adds, "It's not personal. If it makes you feel any better I'm betting I'll probably be just as unlucky as you. I'll probably end up as one of those guys who live all alone in his cluttered New York apartment with his numerous pet snakes. 'Crazy snake guy', they'll call me."

Monica snickers at his imagined future despite herself. "What about Janice back there who was sucking your face off? Don't you think she'll rescue you from becoming 'crazy snake guy'? You seemed pretty in love to me." Monica retorts, her face scrunching up distastefully at the words 'in love'.

He shrugs at this, "I don't know. Maybe. But relationships don't really work out for me so I'm not holding out too much hope. I've got a feeling I'm destined to die alone, you know?"

"Ross mentioned you had a dark side," she tells him.

"He did?" Chandler asks surprised. Then after some consideration he adds, "Yeah, I guess I do."

Finally, _finally_ , Chandler pulls the station wagon into the parking lot of the roadside diner. It's been a long six hours, which it turns out is quite a bit of Monica. He barely waits for the engine to cut before fleeing from the car and lighting up a smoke. He ignores the looks of distaste his companion is giving him and takes a series of long consecutive drags from his cigarette. The rush of nicotine after the many hours of abstinence leaves him feeling giddy so he leans against the hood of the car waiting for the feeling to pass.

For a moment he thinks Monica will leave him behind to get a table in the diner, but she surprises him by joining him against the hood.

"Those things are going to kill you," she tells him, effectively ruining the comraderie he thought might be springing up between them.

"Something's got to," he replies darkly.

She just stares sideways at him for a moment, the silence and her gaze making him feel slightly uncomfortable, before she asks, "Why'd you ever start in the first place?"

"I don't know," he admits. "I started really young, when I was a kid. My parents were splitting up and I wanted to rebel, piss them off. I don't know," he repeats.

He thinks she may be about to question him some more about the details of his childhood angst so he abruptly changes the topic, "So do you think this diner's going to be able to meet the standards of New York's next great chef?"

"Probably not," she laughs. She seems to consider something for a moment before adding, "But Richard always tells me that you've got to try lots of different foods in order to be sure what you're cooking up is unique."

"Richard?" Chandler asks, not having heard of a 'Richard' over the course of the last 6 hours.

"He's a friend," Monica answers not meeting his eye and pushing off the car to head toward the diner's entrance. "My parent's friend, actually," she adds. Chandler can tell that while Monica is trying to appear disinterested in this Richard character she is in fact anything but. "He's going to help me get my start in New York."

Chandler stubs out his cigarette, a few puffs prematurely, in order to follow her into the diner and waits till they are seated to press her for more details about this Richard person. There is something about her obvious attempts to downplay her relationship with him that has Chandler interested.

Once seated he's about to bring him up again when they're interrupted by the waitress who greets them with a bored and emotionless rendition of the daily specials.

"I'll have the grilled cheese," Chandler tells her, foregoing a look at the menu trusting the diner staple will be available.

"White or wheat?" The server, whose name appears to be 'Debra' if the name tag she's sporting is to be believed, asks in her signature deadpan manner.

"Surprise me," Chandler tells her with a eye-roll which causes Monica to snicker. She quickly does her best to convert the sound to a cough as Debra turns her attention towards Monica to take her order. Nothing on the menu looks particularly tasty, but Monica thinks one of the salads may just be edible with a few adjustments.

"I'll have the Chef's salad," she begins. Debra makes to head back to the kitchen so Monica hastily draws her back. "I'm not finished. I'll have the Chef's salad, but with the dressing on the side. Also, I'll substitute the croutons for a dinner roll, but only if its wheat. If it isn't wheat than, nothing."

"Nothing, like no roll or like no croutons?" Debra asks finally allowing some emotion to seep into her speech. To Chandler's mortification that emotion seems to be frustration.

"No, just no roll. I'll still have the croutons, but on the side."

"Right," Debra replies in a tone that makes Chandler rather doubtful Monica's order is going to come out quite to her satisfaction.

Monica, oblivious to Debra's hostility or Chandler's wonderment, simply sets about unrolling her silverware and polishing it neatly with her napkin not really trusting the dishwashing standards of their current dining establishment. Finally noticing Chandler is continuing to gape at her, she nervously ceases her activities. "What?" She asks defensively.

"Nothing," he replies shaking his head a bit. He's never quite met anyone like Ross' sister before and he can't quite figure out if he finds her idiosyncrasies charming or annoying. It's probably a bit of both he decides. She continues to look at him for some kind of explanation so he decides now is a good time to bring the conversation back to the mysterious Richard character she'd mentioned in the parking lot. "So tell me more about this friend of your parents who's going to help you out in New York."

After a rambling ten minutes or so, two things are pretty apparent to Chandler. One, Monica is way more interested in this Richard than she cares to let on, and two, he's pretty certain Richard's interest in Monica's cooking career has more to do with sleeping with her than any culinary appreciation.

"You know that guy just wants to get with you, right?" He blurts out in the middle of one of her explanations of how Richard is working to put her into contact with all the right people once she gets to Manhattan.

He's not quite sure why he decides to call her out on this point- typically Chandler is all for lying to yourself - but he tells himself he's doing her a favor. There's no point in Monica pretending this big move to New York is all about 'making it' if its really all about some guy.

"He is not!" She answers angrily, her porcelain skin turning a furious pink almost instantaneously.

"Ah yeah, he is," Chandler tells her stubbornly.

"No, he is not," Monica insists. Though after a moment she adds uncertainly, "He really isn't. But why do you think that anyhow?"

"Monica," Chandler begins in a patronizing tone that reignites Monica's anger in an instant. "The only reason a guy would go through all that trouble for someone that you've been describing would be to sleep with her."

"That's not true," she retorts. "He's doing all this for me because he's my friend."

"It _is_ true," he insists.

"Well, that's pathetic."

"Also, true," he concedes.

"I think you're wrong," she tells him finally. "Richard isn't like that," she argues somewhat unconvincingly and then adds with much more certainly, "Anyway he wouldn't be that way about me." She gestures to her self dismissively, all the earlier bravado from her demeanor vanishing instantly.

"What? You don't think he wants to sleep with you just because your fa-" Chandler's question dies in his throat as he realizes what he was about to say. Chandler's an idiot. He knows this for a fact. Which is why he's usually so much better at policing himself around other people. But for whatever reason this girl's gotten under his skin and in the heat of arguing with her he's gone and done one of the stupider things of his long and storied history of being stupid. "Monica, I am so sorry," he apologizes effusively.

"It's fine," she bites back. Her face is like stone work and when he goes to apologize anew she cuts him off harshly, "Just let it lie, Chandler."

He complies and the two finish their meals and the remaining 12 hours to New York in as near to silence as possible. When they finally reach Manhattan and Monica is dropping him off at Washington Square Park, she strings together the first multi-word sentence she's spoken to him since they'd left the diner in Ohio. "Well, it was nice knowing you, Chandler."

"Yeah," he nods climbing out of the passenger side and leaning on the open door for a moment. "Guess we're not going to be friends then, huh?"

"Guess not," she agrees. "Bye," she tosses out waiting for him to close the door before driving away.

"That's too bad," he tells himself, watching the station wagon retreat into the distance, "because you were the only person I knew in New York."


	2. 2nd time we met, he didn't remember me

"I'm going to miss you so much." Monica murmurs the sentiment against his lips before kissing him once more.

"I'm going to miss you too," he returns finally ending their embrace and holding her at arms length.

Monica looks into his deep brown eyes, reluctant to part from him despite the most recent boarding call that's just echoed through the airport terminal. Usually she's anxious to be the very first in line, dutifully waiting at check-in long before her fellow passengers think to join the queue. But right now, in Richard's arms she hardly cares if she misses her flight all together.

She's just about to pull him to her for another kiss when she senses someone staring at them in her peripheral vision. Richard must notice it too because he turns his eyes from hers and after a moment a look of recognition flits across his face. "Mr. Bing," he greets releasing her and turning to the intruder, "Nice to see you again."

"Dr. Burke," Chandler replies, shaking the hand Richard offers, "I thought that was you." He turns to nod at Monica and her heart stops as he does a quick double take in her direction, a small frown appearing on his brow. She sighs in relief, however, a moment later when he turns from her again, focusing his attention back on Richard. She's not really surprised he's failed to place her. It's been almost 2 years since their disastrous trip from Chicago to New York. And while he still looks very much the same as she remembers him, apart from a questionable goatee he's sporting, she knows she's changed dramatically.

She's so caught up in her recollections she hardly notices Chandler waving goodbye and making his way through the crowded terminal.

"That was a patient of mine," Richard explains mistaking her furrowed forehead for confusion, "I helped him out with a case of conjunctivitis a few months back. He's a friend of your brother's actually."

"I know," Monica spits back angrily. "Chandler. Thank God he couldn't place me. I spent 18 hours in a car with him after college and it was the longest trip of my life."

"Really?" Richard asks doubtfully. "He seemed like a nice young man, a little goofy maybe."

"Ugh," Monica replies. "Nice, my foot. I remember we had this stupid fight where he told me he thought that a man would never help a woman…" she trails off remembering too late that Chandler's pronouncement about men only helping women in order to get them into bed was in direct reference to Richard himself. "Well, I forget exactly what it was he said, but I remember it was awful," she finishes lamely.

"Well if I'd known a few weeks back what a jerk he was, I'd have left him with his pink eye," Richard declares jokingly, tugging Monica back into his arms. He holds her at arms length and for a moment they simply stare at one another.

"I love you," he tells her softly and Monica can't help the wide grin that spreads across her face.

"You do?" She asks in surprise and pleasure.

"Yes." He assures her.

"I love you too."

After their declarations, they'd kissed some more. So much more that she'd almost missed the final boarding call for her flight. It'd been hectic for a few moments there but now as she sits in her seat waiting to depart she can't help but smile going over their kisses in the terminal again and again. She's just about to become fully immersed in her daydream when a disturbance at the front of the aisle grabs her attention.

To her horror, Chandler is noisily making his way towards the open seat next to her arguing with a flight attendant all along the way.

"Okay, okay. I get it. No bomb jokes. But really, don't you think you should be more concerned about the people with the _actual_ bombs? Would I really be joking about it if I _did_ have a bomb? I feel like I'm saying the word 'bomb' a lot. Am I saying the word 'bomb' a lot? Alright, I'm going to stop talking now." He concludes his manic rant by flopping into the open seat beside her.

"Sorry," he offers having disrupted her drink tray in the process. The little plastic cup wobbles for a moment before tipping and spilling her soda onto the tray. "Oh shit, I'm really sorry," he repeats earnestly. "Let me get you another drink."

She'd rather he not bother but he's already waved down one of the attendants. "Some napkins please. And another...Coke?" He guesses, taking in the amber pool laying where her drink once sat.

" _Diet_ Coke, please," Monica replies, "no ice and with a lime wedge if you have it. On the side."

She finishes her order and turns back to Chandler to find him looking at her with a wide grin.

"Monica Geller, right?"

"Hello Chandler," she greets far less enthusiastically.

"You look," he trails off here, wanting to compliment her but also wanting to avoid any reference to his terrible faux pas of 2 years ago. "You look really well," he finishes safely.

"Thank you," she says in the same disinterested voice. She can't believe she's going to be stuck next to Chandler Bing of all people for the next 4 hours.

The 2 trade polite smiles as the awkward silence between them grows. I really have the most extraordinary bad luck, Chandler thinks to himself. Of all the people he could end up next to on this flight, of course the universe would sit him next to the girl he'd managed to mortify so many years ago. This kind of thing never happens to Joey, he thinks miserably.

When it becomes evident that sitting in silence for the duration of the flight may actually be more uncomfortable than the occasional dose of small talk, Chandler resigns himself and turns to ask, "So how have you been? Good?"

"Yup," she answers vaguely. "You?"

"Good, really, good. You?" He asks again nervously. She just looks at him blankly till he realizes his mistake. "Oh right, we did you." This earns him a small but genuine smile and it seems like his idiocy is a great equalizer in social situations, sure to amuse even his greatest enemies. Feeling bolstered by her smile her he decides to press his luck with another joke, "You were going to be a competitive hot dog eater on Coney Island, right? How'd that work out for you?"

His bet pays off and she laughs outright at this. "A chef," she corrects. "And it's working out great. I just made head chef at Alessandro's," she finishes proudly

"Hey, no kidding! Congratulations, that's awesome," he praises.

"You know it?" She asks dubiously.

"No. I really _am_ more of a Coney Island hot dog guy. But it sounds fancy." He gives her a shrug and the 2 fall into a companionable silence.

"So you're with Dr. Burke," Chandler begins again after a moment remembering their encounter in the terminal. "He's so cool, especially for an old guy," he stops abruptly from the sharp look she sends him and kicks himself internally. As it turns out he's actually physically incapable of not offending this girl.

"Richard's a grown up." She tells him a little defensively.

"Yeah, totally," he agrees. A moment later though something occurs to him, "Richard? Oh. My. God. That's _the_ Richard. Isn't it?" She shifts uncomfortably in her seat and its all the answer he needs. "Ha! I totally called it. I told you that's why he was helping you out."

"That's not true! In fact we only just got together a few weeks ago."

"Really?" Chandler asks doubtfully. Then after a minute of consideration he adds, "That makes sense actually. No one's who's been in a relationship for longer than a few months is going to still be making out at the airport."

"What do you mean?" She asks. She has the feeling she's in store for another one of Chandler's infuriating theories about men and women but she's still curious despite herself.

"People in long-term committed relationships don't do all those public displays of affection," he tells her confidently. "Once you're in it for the long haul, things get a lot more subtle."

"Oh, and you're an expert at long-term relationships all of a sudden, huh?" She challenges sarcastically.

"As a matter of fact I am." He tells her proudly. "I'm getting married."

"You?" She asks, skeptical. It isn't possible that Chandler Bing's engaged to be married before her, is it?

"Hey, I'm as surprised as anyone," he tells her. "But your surprise isn't exactly flattering, you know."

"I'm sorry. It's not that," Monica explains. "It's just, whatever happened to dying alone as the 'crazy snake guy'?

He laughs lightly at that memory, oddly pleased that she's remembered as much of their limited conversation of their last encounter as he finds he does. "I guess I've just found someone to raise the snakes with."

"Who is she?" Monica asks, deeply curious and only a little regretful of how disbelieving she still sounds.

"Her name is Kathy. She's an actress, well aspiring anyhow," he confides. "And apart from loving me, she's absolute perfection."

"Well that's wonderful, Chandler," she tells him earnestly. "It's nice to see you embracing life in this manner."

They fall back into a comfortable silence, Monica flipping mindlessly through a magazine and Chandler thumbing through the newspaper. Neither is particularly engaged in their reading however and both are pleased when the flight attendant announces the in-flight movie will be beginning in a few minutes.

"Alright!" Chandler exclaims in delight as Bruce Willis appears on the small television screen above their heads, struggling through the aisle of an aircraft, teddy bear in hand.

"What is it?" Monica asks trying to place the movie. "I hope its something romantic."

"Oh it is," Chandler assures her. "It's _Die Hard_. One of the most romantic films of all time."

Monica scoffs at this and turns back to her magazine. However, after confirming that she _does_ put her career before men from the quiz provided she finds her Glamour has very little to offer in terms of entertainment and by the end of the flight she finds herself huddled beside Chandler sharing his headset, one earpiece over his ear and the other on her own. She's enjoying _Die Hard_ more than she'd thought and by the end of the movie when Holly and John are reunited she realizes it is quite romantic too, but she's not about to admit this to Chandler. The two argue what constitutes a romance through the remainder of the flight all the way to the baggage claim.

"You know what your problem is?" Chandler asks her as they walk beside one another on the moving sidewalk.

"I don't have a problem," she retorts, feeling annoyed.

"Yes you do. Your problem is that you think romance has to fit some kind of mould."

"I do not," she says offended.

"Admit it," he demands. "You've probably even been planning your perfect wedding since you were a kid: the perfect church, perfect minister, perfect dress, perfect flowers."

He's right about this but she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction so she just corrects him instead, "I'm Jewish."

"Fine. Perfect temple and rabbi then. It's still how you think. You think love has to work a certain way."

"So just because you've found someone stupid enough to love you, you think you're some kind of expert now?" She barks back with more anger than she'd intended.

For a moment they just stand alongside one another, anger and frustration flowing between them, before Chandler shakes his head a little and replies hurt evident in his tone, "You know what? Have a good trip Monica. I'll see you around."

They're still walking in step however, so after a moment he adds, "I'm just going to stop walking and let you go ahead."

She does and only stops to look back once she's stepped off the walkway. As she watches him moving slowly forward she wonders why she can't seem to have an innocuous and forgettable conversation with Chandler Bing.


	3. 3rd time we met, we became friends

"So get this," Rachel begins leaning towards her girlfriends across the dining table. "Yesterday, I'm sitting here having my morning coffee and guess who just happens to pop by."

"Ross?" Phoebe answers reluctantly, wanting to move Rachel through this inevitable but unwanted topic of conversation as quickly and painlessly as possible.

"Yes!" Rachel exclaims either missing or ignoring Phoebe's annoyance. "And guess what he sat here talking about for over an hour?" Rachel continues undeterred.

"The wedding?" Monica answers, sharing a look of exasperation with Phoebe across the table. They've been beginning most mornings like this for the past 2 weeks since her brother had become engaged again.

"Yes!" Rachel exclaims again. "Can you believe it?"

"Yes?" Phoebe hazards the cheeky response.

"I think he's actually going to go through with it," Rachel sighs unperturbed by the one-way nature of her conversation.

"Sweetie," Monica begins gently patting Rachel's arm, "He gave her Grandma Geller's ring. _Everyone_ thinks he's going to go through with it."

"You're right," Rachel agrees sitting taller at the table. "You're right. You're right. I know you're right."

Her resolve is short lived however as a moment later she slumps forward in her seat once more, resting her head upon her folded arms on the table. "It's just so hard," she laments. "I mean, how can he have found someone else already?"

"You know how Ross is," Monica consoles. "He's always been this way, getting serious right away. You know that about him."

"Yeah," Phoebe chimes in. "Remember Julie?"

"Of course I remember Julie," Rachel barks back lifting her head from the table to glare at Phoebe. "Are you trying to help me here or push me over the edge?" She asks accusingly.

"I _was_ trying to help," Phoebe replies defensively, "but now that you're snapping at me, I kinda want to know what you going over the edge looks like."

"I'm sorry, Pheebs." Rachel concedes. "It just sucks being alone, you know? Everybody else has somebody. Ross has Emily, you've got a different guy every weekend," Rachel gestures to Phoebe who grins smugly at the mention of her rather impressive string of gentlemen suitors of late, "and Mon's got Richard."

"Actually, Richard and I broke up," Monica announces suddenly, interrupting Rachel's list of successful couplings. She's been meaning to bring this up with her girlfriends for a while now, but actually saying the words has been more difficult than she'd imagined.

"What?" Rachel asks in shock just as Phoebe wonders aloud, "When?"

"Last Friday," Monica answers, in what she hopes, is an even tone.

"Monica!" Phoebe yelps angrily, "You waited a whole week to tell us about this?"

"I was adjusting," Monica defends herself.

"Oh honey," Rachel commiserates, pulling her friend into an awkward hug across the table. "I know everything is awful now, but it's going to get better."

"I'm okay, actually," Monica claims, voice somewhat muffled by Rachel's embrace. When her friend releases her to scan her face for any hint of untruth she reaffirms, "Really. We've been growing apart for a long time."

"Okay," Phoebe says happily with a clap, "then you're ready to get back out there with me next weekend."

"I'm not ready," Monica amends quickly. The last thing she wants is to have to start dating again.

"But you just said you were over Richard," Phoebe points out.

"I am," Monica assures her. "But I'm in a mourning period."

"I get it, Mon. Believe me I do," Rachel tells her. "But take it from me, don't wait too long. It's awful out there and all the good guys are getting snatched up faster than Manolo Blahnik boots at a fire sale."

"She's right," Phoebe confirms. "If you don't move now, someone's going to snatch up your boots. And they'll wear down the heel and scratch the toe and you'll have to spend the rest of your life knowing that someone else is out there scuffing up _your_ boots."

"Are we still talking about dating?" Monica asks confused.

"Yes," Phoebe nods before adding, "but the shoe department at Bloomindale's _is_ having a sale this week."

"Nothing like a little retail therapy," Rachel smiles looking over at Monica.

"All right I'm in," she laughs, as the 3 gather their belongings and make for the door.

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"When did this happen," Joey asks, pulling his eyes from the action of the Rangers game to peer over at his friend. They've got great seats and Adam Graves is currently getting his teeth knocked in by some goon on the Red Wings only a couple of rows in front of them. But Chandler is so wrapped up in his personal misery he's hardly even paying attention.

"Last Saturday," Chandler tells him sadly. "I came home with this big bouquet of flowers and she answered the door in her robe. The guys pants were still draped over the kitchen chair."

"Oh, that's harsh!" Joey exclaims taking in his friend's pained expression, which looks remarkably similar to that of the hockey player's who is currently getting his kidneys worked over by the Detroit defenseman.

"That's not even the worst of it," Chandler tells the inside of his once full cup of beer, tipping his head all the way back trying to get every possible drop of alcohol into his system.

"What could be worse than walking in on your wife banging another dude?" Joey wonders aloud.

"It's all my fault," Chandler says dejectedly crushing the empty cup and sighing heavily before elaborating. "She only slept with him because I accused her of it earlier. I basically threw her into his arms."

"Dude, women don't begin affairs just because their husbands are jealous. Trust me, I make a lot of husbands jealous," he adds with a smirk.

Chandler just nods sadly at this, motioning over at a beer vendor a few rows away. When he orders 2 more drinks and swiftly downs the first and begins sipping the second, Joey gently removes the cup from his hands and tries to reason with him, "Let's get some perspective here, buddy. Alright? These things, they happen for a reason, okay?"

"Yeah, me! I'm the reason they happen. I'm hopeless, and awkward and desperate for love. Is it any wonder Kathy left me for _Nick_ ," he chokes out the name painfully. "You know, I knew this was going to happen," Chandler continues miserably. "The whole time we were together, I knew she was going to break my heart. Even though I thought we were in love and happy, a part of me always knew one day she'd kick the shit out of me."

For a moment the sold out capacity attendance at Madison Square Garden seem to moan in sympathy with Chandler as the Red Wings score a last minute goal in the final seconds of the 2nd period to go up 2 to nothing on the Rangers. Joey, usually loathe to leave any sporting event till the very, often bitter, end, takes one look at his friend's sad face and with a quick regretful glance at the shimmering white ice only a few yards away tugs Chandler up by his coat collar. "C'mon," he tells him, gently steering him to the exits. "Let's get out of here and grab a cup of coffee."

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Monica quickly moves to steady the mug a distracted Gunther has haphazardly dropped upon the coffee table. A quick glance at Rachel, who holds up one toned leg to better appreciate the look of her new knee high stiletto boot, is all she needs to determine the source of Gunther's momentary lapse in depth perception.

"Wonder what Ross would think of these bad boys," Rachel remarks eying her purchase approvingly.

"Ugh. Enough with the Ross," Phoebe chastises swatting down her friend's leg and replacing it with her own. "A better question is what are the single men of Manhattan going to think of these puppies." She waggles her own newly acquired bright blue Doc Martens in the air for them to appreciate.

Monica grins at her friends' enthusiasm. She herself hadn't felt quite as bolstered by their shopping trip, though she had found some very comfortable slippers to wear around the house.

"Oh, look at the time," Phoebe remarks suddenly jumping from her seat and gathering up her belongings. I've got to get to work. New client today, very hairy from what I hear," she adds, shuddering a bit at the mental image before heading towards the door.

"I love it when you talk shop," Rachel tells a retreating Phoebe who gives a final departing wave in the doorway. Rachel is about to turn back to Monica when she spots a man stealthily looking in their direction.

"Don't look now," she whispers conspiratorially to Monica, "but someone is staring at you over by the window seat."

"What?" Monica asks in confusion immediately disobeying Rachel's request and scanning the coffee shop. Her gaze moves over a few tables before landing on Chandler who is looking down at his table seemingly absorbed in the placard listing the daily drink specials.

"I know him," she tells Rachel. "He's friends with Ross, so you'd probably hate him."

"He's cute," Rachel asserts giving Chandler a critical once over.

"You think he's cute?" Monica asks surprised. She's never really considered Chandler in this way before.

"You should go talk to him," Rachel presses.

"Forget it," Monica tells her. "He's married."

When it looks like Rachel may have a reply to that objection, she adds, "Besides we only ever fight when we bump into one another. I doubt he'd want to talk to me."

"Monica Geller. Hi." Chandler greets, disproving Monica's prediction nearly as soon as she'd voiced it.

"Hi Chandler," Monica returns in embarrassment wondering how much of her and Rachel's hushed conversation he might have overheard.

"I thought that was you." He tells her still hovering awkwardly beside the sofa.

"It's me." She replies, falsely chipper. "And this is Rachel," she gestures towards her friend who unbeknownst to Monica has been gathering her things to leave.

"Bye Mon," she waves before bolting to the door.

"Was Rachel," Monica amends, checks flushing pink.

They remain in silence for a moment before Monica gestures to the armchair beside her seat on the couch, "Wanna sit?"

"Sure," he agrees. The silence stretches for longer this time and Chandler's discomfort grows with it. Why did he come over here again? He wonders miserably.

"So how's Dr. Burke?" He asks finally, figuring her dreamy boyfriend is probably a good topic to get her talking. Heck she's probably even _Mrs._ Dr. Burke by now.

"He's good," she answers automatically before realizing belatedly that it really isn't her place to comment on Richard's status any longer. "I mean I hear he's good anyhow."

"You guys aren't together any more?" Chandler asks in surprise, internally kicking himself. Of course, he'd managed to say the wrong thing to her _again_ , and in record time no less.

"We just broke up," she admits letting a little hint of sadness creep into her voice.

"I'm sorry," Chandler says earnestly, not liking the unhappiness that's come over her face. Sad just didn't look natural on Monica, he decides. "Hey, I'm getting divorced if it makes you feel any better." He's not sure why he's decided to share this humiliating and personal bit of information with her, but it tumbles out of him none the less.

"Oh no!" She replies, genuinely upset. "What happened?" Then recollecting herself she adds suddenly, "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that. It's none of my business."

He just shrugs at that and admits, "I don't really mind. It's kind of all I can think about anyhow."

"Yeah," she agrees knowing just how he feels.

"So what happened?" She prods gently.

"She met someone else." He tells her simply. "Her costar in some stupid play," Chandler elaborates. "I'd given her a hard time because they'd had a love scene in it and it all seemed really hot and heavy so I'd thought something was going on between them. It wasn't, but it is now."

He's practically a stranger, but he's never felt like one to her even back when they'd first met, so she doesn't hesitate to reach across the coffee table to gently pat his hand in sympathy.

He smiles appreciatively before asking in turn, "What happened with you and Richard?"

"We wanted different things," she replies, rotely repeating the answer she's been giving everyone, Rachel, Ross, her mother, since her break up.

He doesn't seem appeased however and just raises an eyebrow waiting for her to continue.

To her surprise, she does, for the first time relaying out loud the circumstance that led to her ending her nearly 5 year long relationship. "I was playing with my nephew at the park," she begins.

"Ben?" He interrupts her. She just nods having forgotten for a moment that he's been a friend of her brother's for years.

"And we were playing _I spy_ , you know the game?" After a nod of his own, she continues, "And he was saying _I spy a swing set_ , _I spy a park bench_ and then he looked over to where a man and a woman were pushing a baby stroller through the park and he said _I spy a family_ , and I started to cry," she admits. "I came home and I told Richard that that was what I wanted. And then he said that he didn't. So we ended it."

"I'm sorry," he tells her looking at her with a perfect mix of pity and understanding.

"Don't be," she assures him. "The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced I did the right thing."

"You sound really healthy," he tells her sounding impressed. "This is the first day I've gotten out of sweat pants," he admits. "I wouldn't even be out of the house right now if my friend Joey hadn't dragged me here."

Monica looks around in confusion as if expecting this Joey person to materialize suddenly.

"He had to leave earlier," he explains. "He'd forgotten about a date he had later tonight."

"He doesn't sound like a very good friend," Monica remarks with a laugh.

"No, it's not like that," Chandler explains. "Joey's great. He's got a huge heart, so big in fact it may be hogging some of the real estate from his brain, if you know what I mean."

Monica laughs again but reprimands him as well, "See comments like that are the worst. They sound like a compliment, but really they're an insult."

"Hey," Chandler deflects, "ambiguous compliments are my specialty. I also dabble in irony, puns, and the occasional knock-knock joke. Maybe I can interest you in a sarcastic comment?"

"Why do I get the feeling if I stick around I'll hear plenty of your sarcastic comments?"

"Ah, a witticism. Very nice," he nods at her appreciatively. Then after a moment he adds, "So do you want to?"

"Want to what?" She asks in confusion.

"Stick around," he explains. "Get dinner or something."

"Oh," Monica replies embarrassed. "Oh Chandler, no I'm sorry. I'm not really looking to start dating again right now."

"No! Oh God, no!" He explains hastily eyes bulging comically. "I'm not asking you out! Not that you aren't great, or anything," he amends quickly realizing how his words might be misconstrued. "I just meant as friends, hanging out as friends. I'm not ready to date again either. Hell, I may never date again."

"So we'll be friends?" She asks smiling slightly.

"Yeah. Friends." He agrees returning her grin.


	4. We were friends for a long time

"I'm gonna die alone," he moans into the phone in lieu of a greeting.

"Bad date?" Monica asks sympathetically.

"The worst," Chandler sighs dramatically. "It started out great. We go out for drinks and she's unbelievable. I've never met anyone like her. She's had the most amazing life. She was even in the Israeli army!" He says in disbelief rattling off his date's many accomplishments. "We talked till like 2 in the morning."

"Really?" Monica asks surprised.

"I know! I couldn't believe it either!"

"So what was the problem? Did she pronounce it _supposably_ or something?" With Chandler there was always bound to be some problem.

"Turns out she was married."

"No! She was married and she went out on a date with you?" Monica who had been only half attending to Chandler up till this point, now gives him her full attention, "That's so twisted!"

"That's not even the bad part," he tells her sadly.

"How is her being married to another guy not the bad part?"

"Her husband's name is Rick," he explains miserably.

Monica waits a beat for him to continue but presses when she's met with only silence, "So?"

"Rick, Monica. Rick!" He repeats, as if yelling this fact is somehow supposed to make it meaningful to her.

"Sooo?" She repeats impatiently.

"Sooo," he mimics her mocking tone before elaborating, "Rick rhymes with Nick! She tells me this and all of a sudden all I can think about is Kathy and I'm having a panic attack right there in the bar."

"Well that sounds like a dream date compared to my night," she retorts, a little less sympathetic to his plight now that he's recounted exactly what went awry with his latest dating attempt.

"Why? What happened?" He asks, curious.

"Doctor Roger spent half the evening talking about the intestinal parasites I may have contracted from the oysters I ordered."

"Oof. That's rough. No wonder we're both staying in tonight. So what are you doing now?"

"Watching television. _Die Hard_ 's on channel 12," she adds, knowing he'll want to watch along.

"Nice, a holiday classic!" She hears him fumble a bit on his end before he comes back on the line. "Got it. _Yippee ki-yay mother fu-_ " he begins the quote in his best Bruce Willis impression before she cuts short his obscenity.

"Chandler," She groans, half in remonstration and half in amusement.

"Jeez. Sorry, Mom," he replies petulantly.

"Excuse me?"

He must hear the bite in her tone because he quickly amends himself, "I said, sorry Mon…ica you beautiful, intelligent, talented goddess woman."

"That's better."

The 2 fall into a companionable silence as they continue to watch the movie together over the phone.

"So I'm thinking of talking like Hans Gruber on all my future dates," Chandler chimes in, never one to let a silence last long.

" _I'm going to count to 3. There will not be a 4. Give me your phone number._ " He says in a heavy German accent.

Monica's giving him nothing, not even a chuckle, so he tries again, " _I am an exceptional dinner date. And now that I am moving on to dancing, you should be more polite_."

"Are you done?" She asks him, voice completely devoid of amusement.

" _Now I've got your answering machine. Ho, ho, ho_. Okay that one doesn't really work." He admits.

"Yeah, I'm not sure the Gruber thing is such a good idea."

"Can't make things much worse," he sighs dejectedly returning his attention to the movie, which has reached its action packed denouement. "Now look at this," he says excitedly, as a sweaty, blood covered Bruce Willis sends Alan Rickman to his death and gathers Bonnie Bedelia into his arms. "Do you think there's any chance Kathy's theater will be taken over by international thieves posing as terrorists and I'll be able to win her back with my devotion and manliness? Don't answer that." He adds quickly a second later realizing he's set her up for about a million excellent jokes at his expense.

Thankfully Monica let's his comment slide, instead proclaiming with a little whine, "Look at how in love they are," as the couple kiss passionately on her television screen.

"I know," he agrees. "Remember when you tried to tell me this wasn't a romantic film."

"When did I say that? I never said that," she protests.

"Yes you did, on the flight to Las Vegas. Don't you remember? We fought about it the whole trip!"

"I never said that," she repeats.

"Fine. You never said it." He reluctantly agrees, more interested in avoiding the argument than really believing her. Then in an attempt to change the subject he adds, "So are you excited about next weekend?"

"I don't know. Didn't you say this friend of yours was kind of dumb? And slutty?"

"He's not dumb. He's uncomplicated. That's a good thing. And he's good with women, sure. But lately he's been wanting to settle down. He keeps saying he wants to have _the closeness_ with someone, whatever that means. He's a good guy."

Monica gives an audible sigh on the other end of the line, suggesting she's still not sold on the idea so he continues, "Look, you're one of my best friends and Joey's one of my best friends. And if by some chance you two could hit it off, we could all be friends together. What could be better than that?"

"Yeah, okay," Monica concedes reluctantly, "Well, so how about you? Are you excited about going out with Rachel?"

"I don't know," Chandler tells her worriedly. "Are you sure Ross is okay with this? I mean he's been obsessed with this girl since college. I had to hear about how straight her teeth were for 4 years, for crying out loud."

"Ross is getting married in 6 months. He better be okay with Rachel seeing whomever she wants," Monica declares. "And like you said," she adds softer, "you two are my best friends. It would be great if you got together."

"Okay, alright," he concedes. "Let's double date!"

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"So I don't really think Joey's got a toothache," he tells her in apology as the 2 sit alone at the table for 4 in the crowded Chinese restaurant. They hadn't even made it past appetizers, before their respective dates had not so subtly excused themselves to run off together. He's annoyed with Joey, but more than anything he's angry with himself for contributing to Monica's ever growing list of bad dates, however inadvertently.

"Yeah," she agrees. "And I know for a fact Rachel didn't go home to feed her cat," she tells him bitterly.

"Oh, yeah? How do you know that?"

"She doesn't have one." This makes Chandler chuckle and the sound must be contagious because she finds herself laughing at Rachel's imaginary cat as well.

"I didn't even know Rachel watched _Days of our Lives_ ," she tells him once she's gotten her mirth under control. "Who knew she was such a fan of _Dr. Drake Ramoray_ ," she affects a posh accent in recounting Joey's television persona that sends Chandler into another fit of giggles.

"I know, right!" He exclaims. "How am I supposed to compete with the famous Dr. Ramoray? He's like the best neurosurgeon in Salem!"

This has Monica laughing again, though she thinks there may be a little bit of real dejection behind Chandler's merriment so she adds, "I really am sorry, Chandler."

"Oh please," he assures her with a shrug. "I'm used to women choosing Joey over me. It's like second nature to me by now. In fact I should probably get her breakfast order from you now for tomorrow morning. How does she like her eggs?"

He's hoping to get her laughing again with this, but instead she just answers solemnly, "Maybe it's a good thing he didn't like me. I'd just end up one of the many women sitting having coffee with you the next morning while he snored away."

"Okay 1st off, I'm not thrilled by the way you dismissed having coffee with me," he smirks at her.

"You know what I mean," she tells him.

"And secondly, I don't think many of these women go home disappointed."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Joey and I share a wall. I'm pretty sure these women are having an okay time. A better time than they'd have with me anyhow," he adds, and she thinks she can hear that real sadness in his voice again.

"Don't say that. I bet you're fine in bed," she reassures him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he concedes. "It's nice. It's adequate. But I want to be better than nice, you know? I want to go from _nice_ to _Oh my God someone's killing her in there!_ Do you know the other night, Joey made a woman meow?"

"He made a woman meow?" She asks, impressed. "Okay now I'm sorta starting to regret him leaving with Rachel."

"Told you," Chandler says dejectedly.

"Look I can help you." Her offer is met with a joking leer so she adds, "Not like that, pervert. Get your head out of the gutter."

"Here," she takes a pad of paper and pen from her purse and begins to draw the female form. "You know about the 7 erogenous zones, right?

"Of course I know about the erogenous zo-," he answers automatically before stopping in surprise. "Wait. What? There are 7?"

"Um, yeah," she tells him beginning to label her drawing.

Chandler shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he listens to his very beautiful, but very platonic friend relay detailed instructions for how to pleasure a woman. His discomfort and embarrassment grow as she herself seems to become a bit too invested in her lesson, a light sheen of sweat breaking out on her lily-white skin. As she reaches the pinnacle of her lesson she let out a rather loud and breathy exclamation indicating the last and most important zone, "Seven, seven, seven!"

"She's really excited about #7," he tells a pair of older ladies who's attention has been attracted by Monica's display. "You get the Kung Pao and egg rolls for $5.99." He tells them indicating the special on his menu.

"Are you finished?" He whispers furiously at his friend, who just grins contentedly back at him from across the table.

He finds himself grinning as well despite himself as he hears the women at the table beside them ordering their #7 specials as well.

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"I really want to thank you for taking me out tonight," Monica tells him as they sway together across the dance floor. They're ringing in the New Year at the museum this year thanks to invitations to the annual swanky black tie event procured by Ross. While her friends had readily accepted, Pheebs excited to have a chance to be in the exhibits after hours and Rachel excited to show off her new celebrity boyfriend, Monica had dreaded going stag. Luckily Chandler was just as dateless for the evening so they've decided to come together. "I don't think I could have stomached spending New Year's Eve alone," she admits.

"Forget it," he tells her easily. "Consider it a standing offer. If either of us ever don't have a date for New Year's Eve, we'll get together and celebrate."

"Why won't I have a date next New Year's Eve?" She asks panicked. "Oh my God. Do you think I won't find anyone for a whole year!"

"No, no." He assures her, realizing too late that he's said just the wrong thing to set her off. "I said _if_ , _if_ we don't have dates." He tugs her to his chest once more and rubs her back comfortingly. "I'm sure you'll have a date by then. Who wouldn't want you?"

This seems to console her, and she heaves a heavy sigh and wraps her arms around his waist once more as they continue to move in time to the music.

As she tucks her head into his shoulder, he brings his arms tighter around her small waist and gives a contented sigh of his own. Their dancing has stilled to nothing more than a gentle sway as they stand embracing on the dance floor. "This is nice," he tells her.

"I know. It is, isn't it?" She agrees. She pulls away just enough to look into his eyes, just as the revelers around them begin the countdown to the New Year.

"10-9-8-7-6…"

"No, I mean it, this feels really good. Is it 100% silk?" He asks, pulling further from her to indicate the fabric of her gown.

"5-4-3…"

"Yeah," she tells him with a grin. "And I got it on sale, too!"

"2-1…" The crowd around them bursts into triumphant shouts of "Happy New Year!"

"That's my girl," he tells her, bending down to give her a quick friendly kiss on the lips. "Happy New Year, Monica."

"Happy New Year, Chandler."

They smile happily at one another for a moment, before being interrupted by a handsome young man who taps Chandler politely on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," he begins. "I was wondering if I might cut in and ask your lovely partner here for a dance?"

"Of course," Chandler agrees stepping aside to allow Monica to speak with her potential dance partner. "She and I are just goofing around." As he steps away towards the bar he leans over to whisper in her ear, "Looks like you may not need me next year after all."


	5. And then we weren't

"I don't know why we came here", She tells him in frustration. They've been shopping for hours now and the Sharper Image store is just the latest in a string of establishments sure to have nothing to suit their purposes.

"Well, what about this?" He asks, gesturing to yet another inappropriate selection?

"What is that even?" She asks in exasperation.

"It rewinds your VHS tapes! _And_ it looks like a Porsche!" He explains excitedly.

"I don't know. That seems more like something up Joey's alley.

"Okay, okay," he concedes. However, unwilling to admit defeat he pipes up a moment later leaning against his latest suggestion, "What about this?"

"A foosball table?" She asks in disdain. "That seems more like something up _your_ alley. You know we're shopping for an engagement gift, not Ross' bar mitzvah, right? Besides, he sucks at foosball. I could always kick his butt growing up," she adds smugly a moment later.

"I bet you could," Chandler tells her proudly. They continue milling around the store, Monica certain they'll never find the right gift; Chandler certain they will.

"Oh, what about this?" He suggests anew, gesturing to a home karaoke machine. He presses play on the cassette player and begins bobbing his head in time to the music that rings out loudly. "The perfect thing! Everyone needs one of these!"

She is trying to ignore him and the introduction of _Endless Love_ that is currently playing, but he is having none of it. "Monica," he states loudly into the microphone in his best impersonation of a grocery store clerk. "Please report to me, Monica."

 _"_ _There's only you in my life. The only thing that's bright."_ Chandler croons alongside Lionel Richie, beckoning her over, surprisingly in tune. Reluctantly she joins him at the microphone, charmed in spite of herself.

Diana Ross' half of the duet begins, and she misses the first few bars trying to orient herself to the words scrolling across the screen. Finally she catches up and sings, " _You're every breath I take. You're every step I take._ "

She's horribly off key, but Chandler doesn't seem to mind, smiling happily at her and joining in for the shared duet, " _And I…want to share all my love with you. No one else will do._ "

She's getting into it now, seduced by Chandler's enthusiasm. Closing her eyes she unabashedly belts out, " _And your eyes…your eyes…your eyes. They tell me how much you care._ "

Too late, she realizes she's singing alone. Opening her own eyes, she notices Chandler is frozen in a grimace, staring in front of him.

"What's the matter?" She asks concerned. When he doesn't answer, she adds in embarrassment, "It's my voice, isn't it? It's terrible, I know. Do they have any Tanya Tucker? That's way more in my key. Chandler?" She asks after a moment, realizing he's stopped listening to her.

"It's Kathy," he interrupts her in a whisper, eyes still staring straight ahead in shock.

"Kathy?" She blurts in surprise, right into the microphone.

The sound must alert their presence to the other woman, because she and the man she's with make their way to where Chandler and Monica are standing.

"How are you, Chandler?" Kathy asks hesitantly. Monica can't help but stare in fascination at the woman who's caused her friend so much heartache.

"Fine, fine," Chandler answers sounding anything but.

"This is…" Kathy hesitates here before finishing simply, "This is Nick."

"Nick." Chandler manages to repeat in greeting whilst accepting Nick's outstretched hand.

They stand around awkwardly for a moment, before Chandler seems to remember Monica's presence and he gestures to her in introduction. "This is Monica. Monica, this is Kathy…and Nick."

"Hi," Monica nods politely.

"Well," Kathy says finally after several awkward moments. "It was nice to see you again. See you around."

"Yep," Chandler says strained. "Bye, Nick," he spits out the name.

"You okay?" Monica hazards after Kathy and Nick have departed.

"Fine." Chandler responds, strain evident in his voice. "Perfect."

"Yeah?" She asks doubtfully.

"I'm fine," he tells her again finally seeming to shake himself from the trance he's been in since spotting Kathy. "It had to happen at some point. I mean in a city of 8 million people, you're bound to end up singing _Endless Love_ in front of your ex-wife...and Nick," again Chandler seems to choke on the other man's name. "So it happened. And now I'm fine. Though I never seem to run into Whitney Houston," he adds angrily, storming to the store exit.

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"Gee. Thanks guys," Ross says unconvincingly as he turns the box around to look at it from another angle. " _What_ is it, exactly?"

"It's a car that rewinds your videotapes. I know it's dumb," she concedes a moment later barely attending to her brother. She sneaks a look over at Chandler, who sits alone staring morosely out of the apartment window. After their encounter with Kathy, she'd grabbed the least offensive of the many items in the store and hurriedly purchased it. By the time she'd been able to chase after him, she'd found Chandler over at a nearby newspaper stand, working his way through a recently purchased pack of cigarettes. She'd managed to get him to put out the one he'd been smoking and join her in bringing their gift to Ross and Emily's apartment. But she knows for a fact he still has the pack in the pocket of his windbreaker and has no delusions as to his intentions when he excuses himself from the apartment a moment later.

"Gimme a sec," she tells her brother as she makes to follow Chandler.

"He's had a very long hard day," she adds as Ross looks after their friend in confusion and then back to her for an explanation.

She finds him, as expected, on the stoop below, cigarette in hand. "You're smoking again?

"Well technically, earlier today I was smoking _again_. Now I'm just still smoking," he tells her impudently.

She just glares in response, so he adds apologetically, "I know, I know. I made a mistake buying these." He drops the cigarette from between his fingers and makes a show of stomping it out into the concrete steps. "Happy?" He asks, the bite still present in his tone.

"Chandler," she chastises, "you're going to need to find a way to get over Kathy without taking up smoking again. Remember how hard it was to quit last time?"

"Jesus, Monica. I know, okay? I _just_ ran into her again. We're not all robots. Can I get like 5 minutes to process here? Some of us have human emotions we need to express from time to time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asks offended.

"It means, I don't think you're the best person to be giving out life advice right now," he yells back. "You're relationship of 5 years ends and you're over it after a week of cleaning the bathroom. Excuse me if I'm having a little more trouble getting over my marriage."

She knows they're only having this argument because he's upset over their run in with Kathy, but she's not as sure he doesn't mean the insults he's hurtling her way. Hearing the criticisms from him hurts her more than she'd like to admit so she barks back angrily, "And you think wearing sweat pants all day, visiting strip clubs, and slowly killing yourself with these things is going to help?" She snatches the pack from his hands before he has the opportunity to light another cigarette. "I've got news for you Chandler, you're going to have to move to New Jersey because you've been to every strip club in New York and I don't see that making Kathy a distant memory!"

Her fists are clenched in her pockets, her face is warm, and her breath is coming out in quick huffs. Though he's irritated her plenty over the years of knowing him off and on, she doesn't think she's really been angry with him like this since he'd called her fat in the diner all those years ago.

"Are you finished?" He asks quietly.

"Yes." She admits, still working to get her temper under control.

"Can I say something?" He asks calmly.

"Yes." She whispers, trying not to shed the tears that have been threatening since they've started arguing.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He tells her gathering her up in his arms. She accepts his embrace and finally lets herself cry into his shoulder. "I promise I won't smoke anymore okay," he vows holding her at arms length. "And if I do, I promise I'll do a much better job of hiding if from you," he jokes making her laugh aloud through her tears.

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"I'm getting married tomorrow. A-whoo-hoo!" An excited Ross exclaims happily.

"Yeah you are," Chandler humors him with a friendly pat on the back. "You know, I'm glad you're having this rehearsal dinner. I so rarely get to practice my meals before I eat them."

"Hardy har har," Ross replies sarcastically before telling him seriously, "Hey, I'm really glad you could be here. I missed you last time when I married Carol."

"Thanks man," Chandler tells him earnestly before adding jokingly, "But you shouldn't have gone through all this trouble of getting remarried just to have me at your wedding."

Ross scoffs good-naturedly at this and the 2 men stand together companionably, taking in the festivities in the hotel's large dining room.

"Hey is that Richard over there?" Chandler asks in concern a moment later, spotting Monica's ex-boyfriend among the crowd of well-wishers. "Does Monica know he's here?"

"Well, yeah," Ross tells him. "She helped with the seating after all. I mean he's my dad's best friend, you know? It's not like I couldn't invite him."

"Yeah, I get that," Chandler reassures him. "I'm just worried tonight might be kind of tough on her. Where is she anyway?" He asks, realizing it's been awhile since he's seen Monica milling around.

"I think Rachel said she was going up to her room for a bit before dinner. We all rented rooms for the weekend."

"Do you know her room number? I think I'm going to go check on her," Chandler asks, quickly downing his remaining champagne and passing off the empty flute to one of the waiters moving through the room. Something about Richard's appearance and Monica's absence has him unnerved and he's pretty sure he won't be able to enjoy himself till he's made sure she's alright. "See you in a bit," he tells Ross noting Monica's room number and heading toward the elevators.

His worst fears are confirmed as his knock at the door is met by a sobbing Monica.

"Hey, what's the matter?" He asks in concern.

"She's pregnant," Monica exclaims through her tears, moving to allow Chandler to enter the hotel room.

"Who?" Chandler asks in total confusion. "Emily?"

"No, his girlfriend," Monica explains taking a tissue from the box she's carrying and loudly blowing her running nose. "Richard's girlfriend! She's pregnant. I just saw them downstairs."

"Come here," Chandler says, bringing her into his arms for a hug.

"I need a Kleenex," she tells him miserably when her attempt to pull another tissue from the box comes up empty.

"Okay," he tells her, gently leading her to the bed and depositing her on the end before retrieving a second box of tissues from the bathroom. He sits beside her, handing her the fresh box of tissues. She removes yet another and flings it behind her onto the floor after dabbing at her watery eyes. The floor of the hotel room is littered with her discarded tissues and it's this disarray from the normally excessively tidy Monica that makes him more disconcerted than anything else about her manner so far.

"We're downstairs talking," she begins recounting her and Richard's meeting. "How's the practice? How's Michelle? Oh, did I meet his date? That's her over there. Yep, exciting news. She's due in November." Monica barely gets this last sentence out before her body is racked once again by sobs. For a moment she gives into her misery and crawls along the bed, lying down and resting her head upon the pillow. He eases himself onto the bed as well and lies beside her, lifting his arm above them to gently push her thick dark hair from her face. "All this time I've been telling myself we split up because he didn't want a family. But the truth is he didn't want a family with me."

"If you could take him back right now, would you?" Chandler asks.

"No!" She exclaims resolutely. "But why didn't he want a family with me? Is something the matter with me? Is this why I don't have a boyfriend?" She asks sounding much more vulnerable than Chandler's ever heard her before.

"Nothing's wrong with you," he tells her sincerely.

"I'm too independent," she proclaims beginning to list her many perceived faults.

"You're a self-sufficient, together lady," he counters.

"I'm too controlling," she argues.

"You just pay attention to the details."

"I'm difficult," she continues.

"No way," he scoffs. "Being with you is like being on vacation."

"I'm high maintenance. You know I am," she insists before he can counter.

"Okay, you're a little high maintenance," he concedes. "But that's just because you're passionate and that's a good thing," he assures her tugging her even closer so that her head is resting on his shoulder.

She lies there for several moments sniffling quietly into his lapel before pulling away to swipe at the fabric of his jacket. "I'm ruining your suit," she apologizes.

"That's okay," he reassures her. "I wasn't that fond of it anyway."

He stretches a bit to kiss the end of her nose, which wins him a watery smile. He returns it and they lay alongside one another quietly staring into each other's eyes. The seconds tick on, but still he's reluctant to move and break the strange spell that's come over them.

Now its Monica's turn to bridge the gap between them to place a very gentle kiss on his lips, her eyes still open, never leaving his. The kiss is, in and of itself, harmless. Barely a touch and not unlike the friendly peck they shared last New Year's. But there's no friendly banter or jokes between them now and the energy buzzing between them seems deafening to him in the quiet hotel room.

He knows he should move, sit up and say something, make a joke, anything to pull them back from the brink where they find themselves at the moment but he still can't make himself do it. Before this moment, he'd never even realized he'd wanted to kiss her. But now, he's finding that it takes all of his willpower not to move across the tiny space between them and kiss her for real. In the end he doesn't have to make the decision at all. She's the one who breaks first, leaning up and kissing him hard on the lips. He loses himself entirely in the sensation, marveling at how losing oneself could feel so very much like being found.


	6. Interlude

**Author's Note:**

 **First and foremost I want to thank everyone who took the time to read and review this story. As always, it is so humbling and gratifying to get that feedback and I am incredibly grateful.**

I also wanted to explain a little something about the conclusion of this story. Up till this point, it has been so easy to write. If you've been enjoying it at all that is really down to the genius of Nora Ephron who wrote the script for _When Harry Met Sally_ and the _Friends_ creators who gave us the wonderful characters of Monica and Chandler and their excellent dialogue. All I had to do was shuffle things around a little, a task more fun than work.

However, as I came to the conclusion I reached a dilemma. Though I knew the story would end the same as the film, I could see 2 equally plausible ways to get us there, and I didn't really want to abandon either. So, my solution, for better or for worse, is to publish both of them. One story, two endings. The first will be for those of you who would like to see Monica pine a little (published today) and the 2nd will be for those of you who like to punish our beloved Chandler a bit (to be published shortly). Hope they don't disappoint!

Enjoy!


	7. And then we fell in love: Monica's tale

His palm brushes the small of her back while pulling out her chair and the contact sends a rush of heat through her. Resolutely she tries to banish the memory of the many intimate touches between them from the night before. This has all been a mistake, an awful, awful mistake and she needs to shift her attention away from the tender moments of the hotel room and back to the important task of repairing their friendship.

He's seated across from her now and looking at the menu provided but she has the distinct impression he's only pretending to read the choices printed there. "So what we did last night," he begins with false casualness, eyes never leaving the menu.

"Was stupid," she interrupts, desperately wanting to say it before him.

"Totally," he agrees promptly. She thinks he might deflate slightly at her words, but he recovers so quickly she's not certain she didn't imagine it. "Crazy stupid. What were we thinking?"

"I mean you," she gestures at him and then herself, "and me? Crazy."

"Totally," he repeats with gusto. Their agreement and mutual scoffing disintegrate shortly however and the 2 are thrown into a relentless and awkward silence.

"I mean it was great," she tells him honestly, again fighting to suppress unwanted recollections of their lovemaking.

"It _was_ great," he agrees.

"And I think _you're_ great," she tells him diplomatically.

"I think you're great too," he replies, eyes resolutely on his table setting.

"I think you're smart and you're sweet," she continues.

"I think you're smart and…well you're very smart," he jokes and it helps break the tension just enough for her to finish her sentiment.

"But you and me, together? I just can't see it. I mean you're not exactly boyfriend material, right?"

"Right," he replies curtly, all humor gone from his voice.

"No. No. That came out wrong," she tells him soothingly. "I mean you're great!"

"You said that already," he tells her brusquely.

"Right," she acknowledges awkwardly. This is going worse than she'd prepared for, which is saying a lot given the numerous possible ways she'd imagined this conversation could unfold. All she wanted to do was get things back to normal. Swallow this bizarre ache he seemed to produce in her lately and pretend nothing ever happened. Just get her old annoying friend Chandler back.

"Monica?" He pulls her back to the present and she realizes that while her mind's been racing, their server has arrived and already taken Chandler's order. He stands now looking at her expectantly, pen and pad in hand.

She's just been staring mindlessly at her menu for the last 10 minutes so she takes a second to focus and spits out the first item that grabs her attention. "I'll have the cheddar omelet."

Along with their orders, the waiter takes away their menus and with them the pretense of reading they'd provided. Now, hesitantly Monica looks up at Chandler for the first time in several minutes and is startled to find him staring at her in angry disbelief. "What?" She asks defensively.

"That's it?" He scoffs.

"What's it?" She asks, thoroughly confused.

" _That's_ your order? _I'll have a cheddar omelet?_ " He mimics.

"Yeah, so?"

"No, _yokes on the side_. _Or cheddar cheese, but only if it comes from a cow named Elsie. But if not, than nothing_?" He asks in the same mocking tone.

"No, just a cheddar omelet. So what?" Monica asks confused. Why the hell does he care what she's getting for breakfast?

"Nothing," he says angrily. After a minute though he continues, "I just find it ironic that 'Miss Hospital Corners' over here has such low standards for her breakfast all of a sudden, precisely at the moment she gets such demanding ones for her potential boyfriends."

"Look, I said I was sorry," she tells him getting angry herself now. "Why do you care anyhow? It's not like you want to be my boyfriend."

"Oh and you know what I want?"

"Yes! You just want the easy stuff, all the fun, all the talking, all the sex, and none of the responsibility. Where there's no commitment and no one gets hurt." Does he really think she hasn't been paying attention the last year as he's backpedalled out of every possible relationship that's managed to come his way?

"None of that is true!" He tells her angrily. "You seem to have forgotten I was _married_ for 5 years."

"Right, your failed marriage," she exclaims sarcastically. "Who could forget that? And don't you think it's just a little convenient that you'll get to hide behind that one for the rest of your life?" She knows she's crossing a line here, but his angry criticisms of her, particularly today after they'd been so open and vulnerable with one another just hours before, hurt just a little too much.

"Have you lost your mind? This isn't about _me_ , Monica," he spits her name out as if it were distasteful to him. "This is about _you_ and all your weird hang-ups. You're obsessed with some perfect fantasy you made up as a kid. You probably even have some binder somewhere filled with magazine cuttings of bridesmaid dresses and floral arrangements. You won't be happy till you've got some Richard-esque husband, 4 kids, and a house outside of the city. One of those old Victorian ones probably, with the dormer windows in the attic and the little kitty door for your cat to come in and out."

"So!" She yells, furious now. "So, I want things the way I want them. Why is that so wrong? Why do you even care?"

"You know what? I don't. I don't care," he announces, rising to leave. "I'm not really all that hungry anymore," he tells her, taking a 20-dollar bill from his wallet and tossing it onto the table. "I'll see you at the wedding."

She waits all of 10 seconds to make sure he's left the dining room for good before breaking out into a fit of sobs.

"Is everything alright, Miss?" Their server, who unfortunately has chosen just this moment to return with their meals, asks in concern.

"Fine, fine," she tells him, trying frantically to come up with some plausible reason for her outburst. "It's just that my friend stole that 20 from my purse," she improvises, indicating the bill Chandler's left on the table, before bursting into tears again.

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Beep. "Chandler? Hi, it's Monica. Crazy wedding, huh? We never really got a chance to talk, what with all the madness after my stupid brother said the wrong name up there. Anyhow, give me a call."

…

Beep. "Hey, It's me again. Just checking in. I know you hate it, but Thanksgiving's coming up and I thought maybe you guys would like to come by again this year. We can watch the parade. I'll make you some grilled cheese sandwiches. Heck, I'll even let Joey put sunglasses on the turkey again this year. So let me know, or don't, whatever. I'm breezy like that."

Beep. "Actually, if you're coming could you let me know ahead of time so that I can plan the menu? But just like by Monday, or Tuesday morning at the very latest. Okay, bye."

…

Beep. "Chandler? It's me. Just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. Call me."

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"Hey that guy stole our moves!" Ross yells angrily at the television.

"Hmm?" Monica asks distractedly bringing her attention back to the living room and her brother.

"That dancer, right there," he gets up from his seat on the couch to point out the person in question on the television screen. "The moonwalk into the cabbage patch is straight from our routine from middle school." He struts across the living room repeating the sequence of dance steps to further drive home his point.

"Oh yeah," Monica responds without enthusiasm, still barely attending to her brother.

"Hey," Ross says consolingly, coming over to throw an arm around his sister's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I'm not very good company tonight, am I? I know this isn't exactly the New Year's Eve either of us had planned."

"No, it's not," he concedes. "But it's not all bad. We've got _Dick Clark's Rocking New Year's Eve_ on the tube. That's tradition!" he tells her, pointing back to the television. "We've got Brown Bird Mint Treasures, the greatest cookies of all time," he emphasizes the point by holding the box out to his sister. Reluctantly, Monica takes a cookie, looks at it sadly for a moment before shoving it, in its entirety, into her mouth. "And you beat me 3 straight times in Gin," he finishes gesturing to the cards on the coffee table.

"Yeah, but you suck at Gin," she tells him with a grin.

"I know you're just depressed so I'm going to ignore that," he tells her grinning back.

"I not depressed!" She protests. Though after a moment she flops back onto the couch cushions conceding, "No, you're right. I'm depressed. God, why am I so depressed?"

"It's probably just the holiday. You know it's New Year's Eve. You're feeling lonely. There's all this pressure just to find something with lips so you can kiss it at midnight. Who wouldn't be depressed?"

"Yeah," she sighs.

Unwittingly the memory of kissing Chandler last New Year's flashes into her mind. She remembers dancing across the ballroom with him and the feel of his arms holding her close.

 _"_ _This is nice."_

 _"_ _I know. It is, isn't it?"_

 _"_ _No, I mean it, this feels really good. Is it 100% silk?"_

 _"_ _Yeah, and I got it on sale, too!"_

 _"_ _That's my girl. Happy New Year, Monica."_

 _"_ _Happy New Year, Chandler."_

She remembers other things too, like their banter in the diner all those years ago on the trip to New York…

 _"_ _Monica, the only reason a guy would go through all the trouble for someone that you've been describing would be to sleep with her."_

 _"_ _That's not true. He's doing all this for me because he's my friend."_

 _"_ _It is true."_

 _"_ _Well, that's pathetic."_

 _"_ _Also, true."_

Their flight to Las Vegas…

 _"_ _So how have you been? Good?"_

 _"_ _Yup. You?"_

 _"_ _Good, really, good. You?_

 _…_ _Oh right, we did you."_

Hours spent talking over coffee at Central Perk…

 _"_ _Why do I get the feeling if I stick around I'll hear plenty sarcastic comments?"_

 _"_ _Ah, a witticism, very nice. So do you want to?"_

 _"_ _Want to what?"_

 _"_ _Stick around. Get dinner or something sometime."_

And late night telephone conversations before bed…

 _"_ _Look at how in love they are."_

 _"_ _I know. Remember when you tried to tell me this wasn't a romantic film."_

 _"_ _When did I say that? I never said that."_

 _"_ _Yes you did, on the flight to Las Vegas. Don't you remember? We fought about it the whole trip!"_

 _"_ _I never said that."_

 _"_ _Fine. You never said it."_

Everything had been so easy between them then, the conversation, the affection. She can't remember ever being happier. She can't remember anyone ever making her happier, not Richard, not her friends, just Chandler.

"I need some air," she tells her brother hurriedly as the sudden emotion she feels at her memories starts to overwhelm her. She rushes to the door almost frantic now as the realization that she may never have that closeness with Chandler again hits her. Haphazardly tossing on her winter gear, she's nearly out the front door when Ross calls her back in confusion, "Where are you going? It's almost midnight."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just need to find Chandler." She tells him, not caring that she's all but admitted her newly discovered feelings to her brother.

"Chandler?" He asks in confusion. "Why?"

"Because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible!" She explains fleeing from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Stunned, Ross turns his attention back to the festivities unfolding in Times Square on the television. "My best friend and my little sister," he murmurs to himself. "Who would have thought?"

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"There you are! Haaa! You got away from me!" Janice's high-pitched shriek startles him, nearly causing him to spill his newly filled glass of champagne down the front of his suit.

"But you found me!" He tells her with an inward groan, though outwardly cheerful, mimicking her teasing tone.

"It's almost midnight," she tells him grabbing onto his tie and dragging him to her, almost causing him to spill his drink a second time. "I'm just gonna go freshen up so I'm all ready for the big kiss," she threatens.

"Alrighty then," he tells her retreating form. Then turning to Joey and Rachel he pleads in a quiet whisper, "Kill me, kill me now."

"Can't we kill her instead," Joey pouts.

"Yeah," Rachel agrees. "What were you thinking inviting that woman tonight?"

Initially he'd intended to turn down Joey's invitation to the New Year's Eve banquet being hosted by the Days of Our Lives producers. However as the date came nearer and nearer, he'd begun to dread the idea of staying home alone even more. Ever since he'd fought with Monica, he's dreaded being alone at all, a condition that invariably seems to lead to his thinking of his estranged friend. Once he'd made his mind up to attend, he'd gone temporarily insane and invited his well meaning but horribly annoying old college girlfriend, the only woman in New York who he could be certain would kiss him at midnight.

"I snapped okay?" He admits. "I couldn't handle the pressure of being alone at midnight and I snapped. I'm not saying it was a good idea, I'm saying I snapped."

"Oh good God. She's coming back. C'mon Joey, let's dance," Rachel says dragging Joey onto the dance floor in her haste to escape before Janice's return.

"I'm back," she sings to him in a way he's sure she intends to be flirtatious, but sounds menacing to his ears.

"Yes you are," he confirms taking a large step backward to maintain some physical space between them.

The ballroom begins to buzz in excitement now as they reach the final minutes before midnight.

"All ready, lover?" Janice asks stepping forward again, causing him to back up once more, this time into one of the cocktail tables that circle the dance floor. The half empty plates and champagne flutes wobble dangerously but luckily don't fall.

"You know, Janice. I don't think this is such a great idea actually. I think I might just head out." He motions frantically to Joey and Rachel hoping for their assistance in making his escape.

"What?" Janice asks in confusion, blocking his path to the exits. "It's almost midnight," she argues reasonably.

"That's true," he admits. "But I've got an early morning tomorrow. So…"

"Doing what?" She asks suspiciously just as Rachel and Joey rejoin them on the sidelines of the dance floor.

"I'm moving," he tells her, realizing the poverty of the excuse just as he invents.

"On New Year's day?" Janice asks in disbelief, just as Joey chimes in with his own surprised, "You're moving?"

"Yep," he answers her with a quick shake of his head to Joey as Janice looks away for a moment in confusion.

"To where?" She presses. "I can help you move."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. You see I'm moving very far away." Her suspicious gaze is making him incredibly nervous which is the only thing that can explain the next words out of his mouth. "Very far actually, to Yemen."

"Yemen?" Janice asks doubtfully.

"Wait, is that off the A train?" A confused Joey asks Rachel who merely puts a patronizing arm around his shoulder, "I'll explain later honey."

"You know what I think," Janice says holding onto him by his lapels and dragging him into her personal space, "I think someone's a little worried about our first kiss since we've been reunited. Don't worry, lover," she tells him seductively brushing invisible lint from his jacket. "Kissing Janice is just like riding a bike, a bike with a tongue," she laughs at her own joke and the irritating sound finally prompts Chandler to action.

"That's not it, Janice," he tells her firmly, disengaging her from his suit and taking many steps back towards the banquet hall doors. "I'm sorry but I just can't kiss you."

"Well, why not?" She demands.

"Because I'm in love with Monica," he blurts out. He peeks over at Joey and Rachel who are both sporting matching looks of shock and surprise. He initially attributes this to his sudden outburst until he hears a quiet voice behind him.

"What?"

He turns to find the woman herself, who has appeared from nowhere, seemingly magically transported to the banquet hall. Monica's terribly underdressed in her jeans and coat, her hair matted from the winter hat she's just removed, with pink cheeks and sweaty brow, but all Chandler can think is that she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in real life.

"What did you say?" She asks again, tentatively as if afraid of his answer.

"Nothing. I said 'I can't kiss you' and then I just stopped talking."

"You said you loved me," she tells him with a little more confidence.

"No I didn't." He says more forcefully as the shock of seeing her begins to wear off and he remembers that he's angry with her and regardless of how he feels, she doesn't love him back.

He makes to leave now, heading towards the doors, but she follows him determinedly repeating, "Yes you did. You love me!"

"No I don't," he exclaims turning furiously around to face her. "Stop it! In fact, sometimes I don't even like you. That's right. Like when you snort when you laugh. _That_ is very irritating," he rambles. "And how you only ever eat tic tacs in even numbers! What's up with that? You _never_ relinquish control. Which is the worst," he continues, getting louder and louder with each complaint. "But most of all I hate how you'd throw away something really, really special and wonderful because it doesn't fit some stupid ideal you made up a million years ago."

Of course now, he realizes he's said too much and he's totally laid his whole soul bare before her, not to mention the cast and crew of Days of Our Lives who all stand around riveted by their argument not caring that the 20 second countdown to midnight has begun. But it hardly matters now. A life without her is misery whether his dignity is intact or not. So he just sadly repeats, "I really hate that," before moving to leave.

"Wait!" She tells him grabbing his arm to hold him in place. "Let me talk. In all my life I never thought I would be so lucky as to fall in love with my best friend. I thought it mattered, all that stuff you said, the husband, the kids, the house. Then I realized the only thing that matters is you. You make me happier than I ever thought I could be. And if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way." She's barely managed to keep the tears stinging her eyes from falling through her speech, but now they force their way down her cheeks.

She's just about to brush them away when Chandler steps forward and does it for her, bringing his thumbs to her cheeks and gently holding her face in his hands.

"10-9-8-7…" The crowd around them begin the countdown to midnight, finally distracted from the public spectacle Monica and Chandler have been creating.

"Please kiss me at midnight," she asks him as he continues to gaze at her.

He's really never been able to deny her anything, so he leans forward and complies bringing her lips to his.

"3-2-1. Happy New Year!" The cheers erupt around them as they kiss.

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"The first time we met, we hated each other."

"Don't tell her that!" Monica admonishes with a playful swat, "The second time we met he didn't even remember me."

"The third time we met we became friends," Chandler tells her looking lovingly into Monica's eyes.

"We were friends for a long time," she agrees taking his hand in hers.

"And then we weren't." Even now, his face falls a little remembering those terrible months when they were apart.

"And then we fell in love," she says bringing the smile back to his face. "Three months later we got married."

"Yeah it only took 3 months," Chandler says happily.

"Eight years and 3 months," Monica corrects him.

They look to Laura in excitement, "So what do you think?" Chandler asks nervously.

"Well I've got to say, I think you're going to make excellent parents."


	8. And then we fell in love: Chandlers tale

_**The end for real this time...thanks for putting up with me and for all the wonderful feedback!**_

"So man, I don't know, you know? I mean I really like Rachel. She's smart and beautiful and so, so sexy. But everything's been so weird since the wedding, you know? Like she and Ross have all this history and then he goes and says her name up at the altar and I don't know what that means. What do you think that means?"

"No clue," Chandler replies distractedly.

"I can tell she's all confused and lately it just seems like we're kind of forcing it, you know? Not to mention, I really like Ross. Ever since we all started hanging out, I consider the guy a friend. Now this thing Rachel and I have going on seems really complicated. Chandler? Earth to Chandler? Are you even listening to me?"

"I slept with Monica," Chandler answers, mainly because the sentence has been running through his mind incessantly for the past 3 weeks and he can't stand to _not_ say it out loud any longer.

"What?" Joey asks, totally blindsided by the information.

"I slept with Monica. We slept together."

"You?" Joey asks, pointing his finger at Chandler. "And her?" He points now to the door of their apartment, presumably toward Monica off somewhere beyond the threshold.

Chandler just nods, simultaneously relieved to have unburdened himself of his secret, and horrified by how real this all seems now that he's said it aloud.

"How? When?" Joey asks in rapid succession.

"It happened at the rehearsal dinner."

"The rehearsal dinner!" Joey screams in surprise. "That was ages ago!"

"Yes, but you can't tell anyone."

"Oh, man. This is unbelievable. I mean its _great_." Joey looks at him with uncharacteristic thoughtfulness for a moment before adding, " _Was_ it great?"

"The doing was," Chandler answers honestly. "I mean unreal. I've never felt like that before. You know how I'm usually all," here Chandler makes a gesture somewhere between a seizure and jazz hands to denote his legendary ineptitude with women. "There was none of that. I was totally unrecognizable…in a good way. It wasn't weird at all. It was like, why haven't we been doing this the whole time?"

"Ah. That's so awesome!" Joey says happily. However noticing his friend looks anything but awesome, he adds, "So what happened?"

"I don't know," Chandler admits miserably throwing his head back against the padded headrest of his barca lounger. "I just freaked out. I mean everything happened so quickly. One minute I'm there consoling her about her ex-boyfriend and the next we're ripping a hole in the space-time continuum."

"Oh no! The condom broke?" Joey asks horrified.

"What?" Chandler replies before realizing how he's confused his friend. "No! No. The point is when it was over I didn't know what to say to her. You know, usually you go to bed with a woman and afterward you tell her all about you and she tells you all about herself. But with Monica we already know everything there is to know about one another."

"So what did she say when you guys talked about it?" Joey asks coming around the counter to join his friend in the living room in his own matching chair.

The mix of shame and guilt on Chandler's face is too obvious for even Joey to miss and he quickly admonishes his friend. "You haven't talked to her yet? Chandler, it's been 3 weeks! Do you know anything about women?"

"I didn't know what to say," Chandler deflects weakly.

"Well you better come up with something," Joey tells him. "Because we're supposed to be at Ben's party in about 20 minutes and you know she's going to be there."

"I know," Chandler agrees miserably. "I know. God, we never should have done it."

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"God, I wish we'd never done it," Monica admits with a dramatic sigh, banging her head lightly against the wooden partition.

"But it was good?" Rachel asks from within the changing room. Their afternoon shopping excursion before Ben's party, initially designed to discuss Rachel's love life, has quickly been high-jacked by Monica's with her admission of her and Chandler's tryst the night of Ross' rehearsal dinner.

"God yes. Honestly the best I've ever had."

"With Chandler?" Rachel asks doubtfully.

"I know!" Monica agrees, her tone suggesting she's just as surprised as Rachel. "But it was a mistake," she admits sadly a moment later. "He can barely look me in the eyes now."

"I'm sure that's not true," Rachel tells her, not used to hearing her usually terminally pragmatic friend sound so dramatic.

"Do you know what I told him after?" Monica asks timidly.

"No, what?"

"I thanked him," Monica admits in embarrassment. "Can you believe that? I actually thanked him and told him that it meant a lot to me. And do you know what he said?"

"What?" Rachel wonders.

"He told me I was really hot," Monica sighs with another head bang for emphasis. "I bear my soul and he tells me I'm hot."

"Oh sweetie," Rachel consoles, exiting the dressing room now and gathering a miserable Monica into her arms for a hug. "I can't believe you waited so long to tell me all this."

"I feel so stupid," Monica admits into Rachel's sweater. "And he's going to be at Carol and Susan's this afternoon. I don't know if I can do this, Rach."

"It's going to be okay," Rachel tells her friend soothingly. "It will all be okay," she repeats, hoping it's the truth.

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"Monica. Hi. Hello," Chandler greets nervously, tripping over himself in an ill-fated attempt to appear nonchalant.

"Chandler," she nods coldly at him before turning to Joey and flashing him an overly warm smile. "Joey, how are you?" She asks earnestly.

"Good, good," Joey tells her distractedly scanning the room. "Do you know where the food is at this party?" He asks, already moving away from them to better assess what fare might be offered.

"So how have you been?" Chandler asks once they're alone, trying to engage her in conversation.

"Fine." Her voice is frigid and Chandler's heart sinks a little in his chest. Not surprisingly he _has_ managed to screw up the one great thing in his life just as badly as he's been imagining.

"Listen," he says after a moment, lowering his voice furtively. "Can we talk for a minute?"

"I'm still not done not wanting to talk to you," she tells him in the same cold tone turning to walk away.

"We need to talk about it _sometime_ ," he tells her in frustration.

She had intended to storm away, but his words bring her back. "Sometime?" She asks in an angry whisper. "How about 3 weeks ago?"

"I know, alright," he tells her sincerely. "I'm sorry. I was embarrassed, okay? Honestly, I thought you'd be embarrassed too. I thought we could both use the time." He knows it's a weak excuse, but at least he's being honest, right?

"Embarrassed?" She asks in angry confusion. "What would I have to be embarrassed about?"

"Come on," he tells her with an exasperated eye-roll. "It wasn't exactly your proudest moment, right?"

"Excuse me?" Monica's voice has gone up several octaves and they are beginning to attract the attention of the other guests, so Chandler quickly takes a livid Monica by the elbow and leads her out of the apartment and into the hallway.

"Look, I'm not judging," he explains, trying to make her understand. He knows she thanked him and all after the act, but it's not like she could possibly see sleeping with him as anything but a huge mistake. She's forgetting that he _knows_ her. She's obsessed with marriage and babies and all those other things that a loser like him could never give her. "God knows, you're not the first person to ever get depressed about an ex and then jump into bed with someone else."

Monica actually gasps at this and asks in angry shock, "Are you calling me a slut?"

"No!" Chandler protests.

"Look at me. I'm a slut!" She mocks sarcastically, ignoring him entirely now.

"Jesus," he exclaims in frustration. "I know you're mad that it happened, Monica. I am too. But its not like I asked for this to happen, alright? _You_ kissed me. What did you expect me to do?"

"What are you saying? You took pity on me?" She asks furiously. "Fuck you!"

Her small palm across his face is a sharp reminder of how ridiculously strong she actually is. He's still reeling from her assault when she storms back into the party.

He follows behind her, not sure if he wants to explain himself further or fight some more, when they're abruptly distracted from their argument by Carol beckoning to them from across the room.

"Monica! Chandler! Come over here and leave a message for Ben," she waves across the living room.

"Um, Carol? Why am I talking to Ben through this," Chandler gestures to the video camera that's been arranged to point directly at the loveseat, "when he's literally right over there? He and I were just shooting Krog with his sonic blaster gun half an hour ago."

"It's a video time capsule. We do them for each of his birthdays," she explains. "Each guest at the party leaves him a video message and then when he's 18 we'll give them to him to watch."

"Sounds like a fun party," Chandler says with a sarcasm that Carol either misses or ignores. He looks over to Monica to see if he's managed to make her smile but she's still staring angrily at her hands.

"Maybe you can play it for him 3 weeks _after_ his birthday," she bites back earning her a look of confusion from Carol and an angry huff from Chandler.

"Ben," Carol begins, over-articulating her speech at the video camera whilst wrestling Monica and Chandler besides one another onto the love seat. "This is Aunt Monica and Chandler, the 2 people after your mommies and your daddy who probably love you most. Say hi, guys!" See demands turning to a sulking Monica and Chandler.

"Hi Ben," Monica recites obediently. Chandler finds all he can manage is a sad little wave, preoccupied as he is with how the very best relationship he's ever had is unraveling right before his eyes.

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Beep. "Mon. Hi, it's your old pal Chandler, just calling to apologize…again. Call me."

Beep. "C'mon, Mon. It was a just a stupid fight! You deal with it and you move on. It's nothing to freak out about. Call me. Please."

Beep. " _Monica was a head chef, dun, dun. She was a good friend of mine…She never knew a dumber guy than me, but she forgave me from time to time… Ba, ba, ba. dah, ba…Singing, joy…to the world, all… the boys and girls. Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea. Please, oh please, call me._ So I bought the karaoke machine! Obviously. Call me and I'll promise to sing to you! Or…I'll promise to _never_ sing to you. Whichever one will get you to call. Okay, bye!"

Beep. "Monica. Moooonica. Monicaaaa…ach…ech..aah. Sorry choked a bit there at the end. Call me."

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"Obviously she doesn't want to talk to me. What? Do I need to be hit over the head? I'm done making a schmuck out of myself." The jelly stain on his sweatpants and paper crown sitting jauntily on his head make this pronouncement a little less believable than Chandler might hope. But Joey just nods in agreement as he easily catches the mini basketball Chandler tosses his way and dunks it through the small hoop hanging on the door frame.

"You know, this is a great way to ring in the New Year," Joey tells him. "Two best buds hanging out, having some pizza and beers. Way better than being at some swanky museum party with the girls. Who needs that stupid party anyway? With the dumb open bar? And those cute tiny hot dogs on the little sticks? And those little date things wrapped up in the bacon," Joey gets a far away look in his eyes as he imagines the varying appetizers they'd gotten to taste last year. Chandler thinks he may be starting to drool a little so he calls him back to the present, "Um Joe? You were saying?"

"Right, right," Joey replies shaking his head slightly to disperse the tantalizing memory of teriyaki meatballs and cheese bites. Then turning back to Chandler, he adds, "Besides, you're about to give the Knicks their first championship since 1973." He passes the basketball back to Chandler who makes a big show of aiming his shot before missing widely.

"Ugh," Chandler moans miserably. "Who are we kidding? This sucks."

"Thank you!" Joey agrees in relief, "It so, so does."

"Listen man, get out of here." Chandler tells his loyal friend. "There is no reason you need to be a victim of this Dick Clark holiday too. I'm sure you've got a hundred girls lined up to ring in the New Year with you."

"Well yeah," Joey admits proudly before adding. "But that doesn't mean I'm gonna leave my best pal alone."

"Really, it's okay. Believe me, I'm not much up for hanging out anyway."

"Monica?" Joey asks knowingly.

Chandler just nods.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stick around tonight? Or you could come out with me? New Year's Eve?" He says suggestively, "Lots of lonely ladies looking for company?"

"No thanks," Chandler responds. "Go on. Get out of here. Have a great night. I'll be fine."

As it happens, this is a huge lie and after about 10 minutes or so of being left alone in the empty apartment with his thoughts, Chandler finds himself wandering aimlessly through the streets of New York City woefully underdressed for the chilly late December weather.

 _This is good, this is good._ He tells himself staring into the displays of the trendy boutiques along 8th street. _Window shopping is great! All the fun and none of the expense. New Year's resolution #1. Stop making fun of Monica and Rachel for their shopping habit._ At the thought of the girls however his attempts at levity fall flat just as a particularly strong gust of cold air blows through the tall buildings hitting him squarely in the face.

He ducks into a nearby bodega to escape the wind and wanders along the aisles feeling horribly lonely as a group of revelers pops in off the street decked out in their evening wear to buy up the few remaining bottles of cheap champagne on display in the window. He briefly considers buying a bottle himself and drinking it as he wanders, but decides that that course of action would be a bit too pathetic even for him, so he makes do with a bottle of yoo-hoo from the cooler before heading back out onto the streets.

 _This is a good move. It's 10 degrees out and the wind chill factor in my mouth is a million below. Could have gotten a coffee._ He thinks to himself. _Could have gotten a hot chocolate. That would have been delicious…and festive. But no, for me, ice cold yoo-hoo is the wise choice. Ice cold yoo-hoo is perfection. I loathe myself._ He concludes sadly, noticing for the first time that his wanderings have taken him to Washington Square Park where Monica had dropped him off all those years ago.

This is pointless, he realizes suddenly. He can't escape Monica. She's everywhere. He's known her literally since the moment he's come to New York. Worse yet, she everywhere in his head. He could move to Oklahoma or some equally remote place and she'd still be sitting there behind his eyelids every time he shut them. As his mind's working all this out, his body, always a step ahead, is already unsuccessfully trying to wave down taxis. Realizing a cab ride is probably out of the question, he pulls up the collar of his flimsy windbreaker and begins to run, as fast as his poor abused lungs will allow, towards the museum.

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"Oh my God, Monica!" Her brother squeals obnoxiously, "Where did you meet him? He's amazing!"

"And so rich!" Rachel happily contributes, listing what to her seems like Pete's finest quality.

Ross briefly sends Rachel a reproachful glare before reconsidering and concurring excitedly, "Yes! So, so rich!"

"I'm going," Monica tells them resolutely, unreceptive to their praise of her date for the evening. Though she'd eventually given in and accepted Pete Becker's advances after weeks of turning him down, she's regretted it pretty much every moment since. The 2 of them have zero spark, and admittedly her mind and heart are very much otherwise engaged despite her best efforts to deny it.

"But it's almost midnight," Rachel reminds her with a whine.

"I know, but I can't stand the thought of not kissing anyone at midnight. I'll call you tomorrow," she cuts them off and heads towards the exits before they can remind her that Pete is there and perfectly willing to provide a set of lips should she require them. She's just nearly made it to the coat check, her mind now fully engaged with Chandler whom she's been chasing out of her thoughts all evening, when he appears whole and real before her.

"What are you doing here?" She stutters in amazement, taking in his disheveled appearance and countenance.

"I need to talk to you. It's urgent!" He exclaims excitedly. Then continuing when it appears that she'll let him, "Okay, I've been doing a lot of thinking about us, y'know a lot of, um, thinking, about us," he stutters, "and the thing is, I love you."

"What?" Monica asks in shock. "Chandler, why are you saying this?"

"I don't know. But I know I'm not _afraid_ to say it."

"I'm leaving," she tells him moving to pass, clearly unimpressed with his pronouncement.

"Doesn't what I said mean anything to you?" He asks in a panic.

"What is it supposed to mean?" She asks spinning furiously around to face him. "Look, I know it's New Year's and I know you're sorry about what happened between us. But you can't just show up here and tell me you love me and expect it to make it all alright. It doesn't work this way?"

"Well how does it work?" Chandler asks angry himself now. Trust Monica to turn a suitor murderous during a love confession, he thinks wryly.

"I don't know. But not this way," she insists stubbornly.

"How about this way? I love that you have 11 different categories of towels. I love that you play football like Reggie White. I love I can smell your shampoo on my clothes after a day of hanging out with you. And I love that you're the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And I didn't come here tonight because it's New Year's or because I'm sorry or because I'm lonely. I came here tonight because even though I thought this was going to be the most difficult thing I ever had to do, I realized how simple it was. I love you. And any surprises that come our way, it's okay, because I will always love you. You are the person I was meant to spend the rest of my life with," he tells her emphatically before recollecting himself and adding nervously, "Unless you don't want to."

She just stares blankly at him as the countdown to New Year's begins around them.

"I am so bad at this," he comments sadly preparing to leave.

"Wait," she tells him with a smile, "I think you're better than you think you are." They stand staring at one another as the clock strikes midnight and confetti flutters down upon them.

"Really?" He asks tentatively, "Are you sure?"

"You want to know if I'm sure?" She asks stepping forward placing her hands on either side of his face, before lifting herself up on tiptoes and placing her lips to his.

 _Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

 _and never brought to mind?_

 _Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

 _and auld lang syne?_

"My whole life, I've never known what this song means," Chandler jokes breaking their kiss after several moments.

"I know exactly what you mean," she tells him smiling widely for what feels like the first time in months.

"I mean, does it mean we should forget old acquaintances? Or if we happen to forget them, that we should remember them?" Chandler continues.

"Maybe you're supposed to remember you forgot them or something?" Monica suggests. "Anyway, it's about old friends."

"And I've got it on the karaoke machine!" Chandler states happily, pulling her in for another kiss.

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"The first time we met, we hated each other."

"Don't tell her that!" Monica admonishes her husband with a whisper, "The second time we met he didn't even remember me." She tells the bundle in her arms conspiratorially.

"The third time we met we became friends," Chandler tells his own bundle before sending a wink to his wife across the dim nursery.

"We were friends for a long time," she agrees laying Jack in his crib.

"And then we weren't." She can't see his face in the darkness, but his voice still sounds sad after all this time.

"And then we fell in love," she says tearing up a little at the happy memory, "Three months later we got married."

"Yeah it only took 3 months," Chandler tells Erica, before kissing her temple gently and laying her in the crib.

"Eight years and 3 months," Monica corrects him.

"It was a beautiful wedding," he tells the sleeping twins from the doorway. "We'll tell you all about it one day," he promises, ushering Monica from the room and quietly shutting the door behind them.


End file.
